


Fireworks

by swv



Category: Blink-182
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 12:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11104716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swv/pseuds/swv
Summary: Mark is harassed and decides to catch the little shit.As usual, I suck at summaries and all that. But if you read it I hope you won't be disappointed.





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> As always; I don’t own the persons in this story, I don’t make money out of my writing and I don’t claim the events in this story ever happened.
> 
> And as (almost) always; there will be guns in this story but I’ve chosen not to tag it since it’s not really in any threatening situations.  
> Still, if you have bad experiences with guns you should stay away.
> 
> Thanks to my betas (two of them, again!) that have spent countless hours looking over this one with me. Thank you for helping me! ^^

Mark had been woken up in the middle of the night again. There was some snotty brat that was lighting fireworks in the middle of the night, keeping Mark up when he _had_ _to sleep_. And he had enough trouble sleeping even on the best of nights.

 

Now this little hooligan had decided to make Mark his target for his midnight tricks and tonight was the third time this week Mark had woken up to the loud banging and colorful explosions lighting up the sky outside his window. As if the little shit had found out exactly which window was Mark’s bedroom.

 

But tonight he had enough. As he sat awake in his bed, looking out at the fireworks lighting the sky in pink and purple explosions he plotted how he was gonna scare away the new pest in his life in the act. And the shotgun he had gotten from his father as he moved to his own house, a Remington 870, was gonna do the trick. He was gonna fire a warning shot after the little roach. The shotgun was loaded with birdshot he himself had bought that, worst case scenario, would be enough to harm an intruder but not enough to kill someone.

 

Unable to fall asleep but satisfied with the idea of scaring off the invader he waited for the morning to come, before dragging his sorry ass to the office. During the day he simply hadn’t enough energy to focus on anything other than work, as he came home that night he was exhausted. From lack of sleep and the sheer amount of willpower he had used to keep awake during the day. Instead of dragging out his day any further he turned on the TV in the background.

 

Even this sleep deprived he had trouble relaxing. His mind was spinning and the Californian summer heat was overwhelming him to the point where he couldn’t find relief even with the air condition blasting at full capacity. Not that full capacity on his old machine made much difference.

 

With a water bottle and a little less clothes he sat down in his couch and lazily flipping through his channels, the shotgun resting against the couch next to him. When his tormentor came back; he would be ready to scare the shit out of him. The random voices on the TV dulled his mind and before he could comprehend what was happening he was fast asleep.

 

The bang that woke him up that night was much closer to his house than ever before, it was as if something had been fired from right next to him. For a few moments he was on edge, wondering what was the source of the sound. But as the sky lighted up outside his window he smirked and grabbed the gun, running out into the night, not caring about his undressed state. He was at least wearing underwear and that was good enough. He was gonna give that little shit one hell of a surprise.

 

Stopping short on his porch, Mark saw the little shit sitting on his ass in front of his house, laughing with a pack of fireworks next to him. A gangly, darkhaired _kid_ , at the most nineteen years old and obviously intoxicated. But as he recognized Mark’s presence the kid shut up and looked with big eyes at the man holding the gun. Mark had to hold back a satisfied smirk and pumped the first round into the chamber.

 

The kid looked as if he was gonna shit himself and speedily got up, running away with a look over his shoulder. Mark laughed out loud as his tormentor ran straight into the tree on his yard, and slowly walked over to him.

 

The boy looked up at him dazed and Mark removed his finger from the trigger. The kid was down for the count and, frankly, Mark was happy he didn't have to fire the gun.

 

“Get up.” He ordered the young man on the ground instead, pointing the gun at him as he did as he was told. Mark nodded towards the house and nudged the gun in the back of the little criminal as he lead him inside to his kitchen where his land line was.

 

As the kid sat down at the kitchen table Mark could see a big bruise form on his forehead and took out a bag of frozen peas and a water bottle, pushing it over to the kid and gave a sharp nod towards his head. “Make sure you’re not too badly hurt.”

 

~~~

 

The guy that had escorted Tom into the house had given him a bottle of water and with the first gulp of non-alcoholic beverage he had in hours he felt his head clear to the point that he could take in his surroundings. He was sitting in an old kitchen and the man was standing before him in underwear, shotgun resting against his shoulder in a loose grip.

 

He put a hand over half of his face and rubbed, trying to clear his head further as he took in the appearance of the other guy. A bit shorter than himself and a bit chubbier but in no way unpleasant to rest one's eyes on. A piercing gleaming in the low light drew back Tom’s attention every time he managed to pull his eyes away from ogling the other guy’s chest.

 

So maybe he creeped the other guy out by now, not being able to stop staring at his half naked body. And, somehow, his alcohol dazed mind thought it a good idea to paint him pictures of running his fingers over expanses of skin and bodies flush together. The guy before him was a hottie and he wasn’t even trying to suggest anything else to himself.

 

He saw the other man's mouth move and had to concentrate to filter back in the sounds around him. “… and they can deal with you, shit head.”

 

Tom smiled up at the other man with his most sarcastic smile. “Oh, if you’re gonna call me _shit head_ then I’ll just call you _sexy_ and then this will escalate one way or another.” The other man's mouth hung open and he just stared at Tom, making him feel extremely proud of himself. “So, I’m Tom. What’s your name?”

 

“Mark.” The other guys, _Mark’s_ , voice sounded a bit choked as he answered and nodded his greeting, the silence between them pleasant for his tired head. Mark on the other hand didn’t look too comfortable. “Just… Stay there, ‘kay?”

 

Mark left the room, but was soon back again with what looked like a pile of balled up clothes and, to Tom’s dismay, got dressed. As he was done he picked up the phone hanging on the kitchen wall and waited. Tom following his every move with his eyes as he pressed the frozen peas to his head; if he had known that Mark was this handsome twenty-something instead of the old man he had thought he was he would have started harassing him a long time ago. Sexy was sexy, no matter if the person was a man or woman after all.

 

Tom could hear Mark talk to someone, supposedly the police. Tom was a bit offended as Mark obviously presented their case very biased, but didn’t say anything as Mark hummed and knit his brows. Mumbling something along the lines of “that long”, before agreeing to something and giving his address.

 

Tom wiped the smirk of his face before Mark could turn around and see him, instead staring down on the table and focusing on the peas against his head. The cold sensation against his throbbing skull was sobering him up and, together with Mark’s presence, it almost made him clearheaded enough to not get arrested for public drinking.

 

He heard Mark sitting down across the table from him with a sigh, and when he finally looked up the pale blue eyes meeting his had him smile; even if they flashed with rage. “The cops will be here in a while, busy night or something.” The older man mumbled.

 

Tom leaned forward a bit, resting his head in his hand and looked intensely at Mark. “So, _pretty_ …”

 

“Stop calling me that.”

 

Tom’s hid a pleased smile, eyes squinting up a bit to study the details of Mark’s face. There was no venom in his voice as he interrupted him, only exhaustion. His face was a perfect mask of indifference, apart from his eyes; if looks could kill, Tom would be dead.

 

Tom turned his eyes away with a small smirk playing over his lips again; teasing the other guy was too easy and he could go on all night. But considering that Mark could have a restraining order issued on him his sober part of his brain told him to back off. Instead he looked around the kitchen again, something was off about the place but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

 

“So what kind of a genius are you then, thinking this was a good idea?” Mark voice finally broke the silence.

 

Tom let the silence fill the space between them while continuing to study the room; was it the wallpaper giving him this unsettling feeling? As he felt Mark twist uncomfortably in his chair he looked at him from the corner of his eye. “If you think the fireworks are a pain in the ass? Try talking to those who lived here before.”

 

Mark let out a short laugh, and they both seemed equally surprised by it. Tom found himself pleasantly surprised, but Mark looked awkward. “So, what did you do to the previous owners?”

 

Tom leaned forward, as if he was gonna tell Mark a secret, while only wanting to get closer. Mark looked younger up close and as he didn’t back away Tom’s smile grew on his face. “Oh, me and my friends started this little ritual when we moved out from our parents, you know. Every time we got drunk we egged houses, emptied trashcans over their porches, always trying to outdo ourselves.” Tom leaned back with a satisfied smirk as Mark’s jaw fell slack, seeing the relief in the other guys face of getting away pretty easily. “Then one night my friend tagged an entire house and got caught, sent to jail and all that. So now I’m on my own and just trying to pass time til he gets out.”

 

“You...” Mark interrupted himself and looked suspiciously at Tom. “You do know that you’re telling this to the guy who just called the cops on your ass?”

 

Tom looked around the kitchen again, realizing that he probably said too much. Again.

 

“Yeah, just something about you making me wanna impress you, babe.” Tom smirked, but this time he couldn’t meet Mark’s eyes. Looking everywhere but at Mark. Of course it was the most stupid thing he could do at that moment, telling his secret like that.

 

And then he suddenly saw what was wrong with the room. Mark had no postcards on his fridge, no papers at all. On the kitchen counter there was no personal belongings. There was no pictures on the walls, no posters. He craned his neck looking into the living room; a couch, a TV and a side table with only keys on it. No pictures, no posters.

 

His eyes turned to Mark; he looked indifferent - or maybe emotionless - at a first glance but as Tom studied his eyes closer he saw a striking sadness in them. Or was it loneliness? His head started pounding and he had to close his eyes, he didn’t want to see the misery in the clear blue eyes.

 

“So, what do you do for a living?” Tom asked as to distract himself from the look in those beautiful blue eyes.

 

He felt Mark’s hesitation. “I don’t know if I want to...” They both stopped and Tom opened his eyes at the sound of a car. As the car drove past they both slumped a bit, not the police after all. Tom turned to Mark, who looked resigned; the first feeling apart from anger he had chosen to show. “Why do you wanna know?”

 

“I just thought that waiting would be more fun if we talked?”

 

Mark gave him a small smile. “I work, I guess?”

 

Tom raised a eyebrow but Mark only smiled at him and kept quiet. “A man of few words, huh?” Tom teased. “Luckily for you, I can talk for the two of us.”

 

Tom waited for a reaction from Mark, but only got a challenging stare in response. _Challenge accepted._

 

“So I guess you’re not from the area, I would have remembered you if I had seen you before and I’ve lived here my whole life.” Tom took a pause to give Mark time to join the conversation, but nothing came of it. “I would like to move somewhere bigger, this town's not big enough and all that, but I got a job and an apartment and all that. Kinda hard to leave all that behind to follow some dream about playing music, you know.”

 

Tom stopped, Mark had flinched at the mentioning of playing music and as he looked closer at the older guy Tom found Mark looking bothered. It had Tom wondering what that was all about; everybody liked music, didn’t they?

 

“I play mostly punk, pretty good too if I can say so myself. But no one to play with, you know. Not many people listening to the same music in such a small town...”

 

Mark suddenly got up and walked over to the fridge, getting a water bottle. He looked really bothered and Tom really wanted Mark to join the conversation now, the curiosity taking over more and more. What was Mark’s problem with music?

 

“I guess I could commute to San Diego or something and play with people there, and I do know some people in the punk scene there, but I guess I just haven’t found anyone I _want_ to play with. You know the feeling?”

 

Mark finally looked away from Tom’s scrutinizing gaze, making him feel both like he won and lost at the same time. “I don’t… I used to play the bass, but I don’t anymore.”

 

“Why not?” Tom cursed himself for his overly eager question, but it was out now and he could only wait to see if Mark would back down or continue to talk to him. He could practically see the wheels turn in the other man's head as Mark considered if he would continue the conversation.

 

“I just wasn’t any good.”

 

The answer was dismissive and made Tom smile a little. “And how can you get better if you don’t continue?” Mark gave Tom a look that said _don’t go there_ and was just about to answer as someone knocked at the door. Tom smiled kindly. “I guess that means that the time’s up.”

 

~~~

 

The neighborhood had been calm and quiet for a while now and Mark had not had an interrupted night's sleep in over a month. Although, that was not completely accurate. About a week without the fireworks he started suffering from a horrible period of insomnia. He couldn’t fall asleep until late at night or, if he actually fell asleep in time, he would sleep in short intervals, waking up without any reason.

 

On the most sleepless of nights his head would spin; bad memories scaring him into apathy and worrying him to no end. The panic attacks came more regularly too, sometimes making him unable to leave his house for days on end. He would lie in bed, unable to sleep and wish for nothing more than to fall into the oblivious rest that sleep gave.

 

He had forgotten how bad the attacks were with the kid keeping his mind occupied and he almost missed that little hooligan, _Tom_ ; he had made Mark feel something, even if it had only been rage and fury. At least it had been something other than the beige and black shifts of his mind. The fireworks lighting up the sky and that late night talk; it was something he secretly treasured as a good moment in his otherwise monotone day to day life.

 

It was not like he wished for Tom to return into his life with his pranks and all the sleeplessness that he brought with him. But the loneliness was consuming as well.

 

Mark had tried to follow his colleagues out after work sometimes, bar rounds and dinners, but it always ended with him feeling odd and left out. After the third time he declined their invitation, they stopped asking him. It was fine though. He had run out of excuses anyway.

 

The conversation with Tom had made him think about playing music again though. He hadn’t tried playing his bass in several years, always afraid of not being good enough. His ex girlfriends mocking words echoed in his mind as his fingers touched the instrument stuffed into a closet, making him retract his fingers and hurriedly closing the door. Shutting away the part of him that wanted to give it another try.

 

The second time he tried to take out the instrument, his father's disapproving face showed before him, the face he had made as Mark had told him that he wanted to play music for a living. He was so scared of making everyone disappointed in him, the feeling eating at him from within.

 

So he stopped trying. Again.

 

As he laid in bed late one night, not finding rest for long enough to fall asleep but also without enough energy to get up and walk around the house, a loud bang was heard in front of the house. First the sound didn’t register with him, but as soon as he saw the glittering sparks explode in the sky outside his window he got up. Not knowing where he found the energy, he pulled on a pair of pants, almost falling over in his haste to get to the front door.

 

As he opened the door he saw Tom stand on his porch, holding a guitar case and smiling at him. “Missed me?” Mark followed Tom’s eyes over his body, realizing he hadn’t got a shirt on and that his pants was on backwards. He had to blush, he looked like an overly exited teenager.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

Tom shrugged. “I thought you might have missed me, had to do some time in jail for that last little stunt after all. By the way, thanks for not telling them about the other little pranks.”

 

It was Mark’s turn to shrug, it was not like Tom had been tagging or egging his home anyway. His eyes fell on the guitar. “And what are you planning on doing with that?”

 

“Oh, yeah, so I thought I could play with you. Since, you know, the alternative is fireworks in the night and all that to keep me occupied.” He looked smug. “And you needed to play more anyway. Now, let me in.”

 

It wasn’t a question and Mark couldn’t find the strength to fight the kid over it right now. Instead he opened the door wider with a roll of his eyes, letting Tom come inside.


End file.
